


Memento

by Laylah



Category: Persona 3
Genre: Best Friends, First Time, Fix-It, M/M, Post-Canon, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-13
Updated: 2009-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-02 14:36:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lot of the guys staying there were recovering from Apathy Syndrome, so some of their heads were pretty messed up, too, and nobody thought it was too weird that Shinjiro couldn't remember anything from October on and not much from before that.</p><p>[NB: I wrote this before FES was released in English, so it is not FES-compliant. ^^]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memento

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vector](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vector/gifts).



_memento: remember_

When he remembers it happens fast, like stepping in front of a moving train. Like getting shot. One minute Shinjiro is going through the motions at his job, unpacking crates full of souvenir junk and loading it onto carts so one of the other guys can stick it on the shelves, and the next minute he's clutching at the cart and reeling, trying to make sense of the sudden, staggering weight of the knowledge. Has he just gone crazy? Is that what this is? Doesn't crazy come on more gradually than this? On the other hand, he thinks most sane people don't remember dying. Even the guys at the shelter mostly aren't that messed up, or they have the sense to keep it to themselves. Shinjiro swallows hard, and makes himself keep unpacking little resin models of the Port Island Observatory. The job's boring as hell, and he's bitched about that more than once, but it helps now, gives him a chance to think about all this crazy stuff and try to sort it out.

By quitting time he thinks it mostly makes sense in his head, at least up to a point. Well. It still doesn't sound real, but at least it's a start. He remembers Shadows, and fighting with SEES, and running away and then coming back. He remembers the weird, quiet kid who led the team last year, and those goddamn freaks in Strega, and he remembers how bad it _hurt_ to get shot.

Death wasn't anything like he expected, anything like he remembers from Sunday school lessons at the orphanage. He remembers hanging around and watching the SEES team keep going, watching them grow up and get tough and refuse to give up. He remembers a presence in the dark with him, huge and distant and totally incomprehensible, watching him like it was curious, or something.

It seemed...he couldn't call it pleased, or anything, because it wasn't that human. But it wasn't upset to have SEES challenge it, and it didn't try to stop him when Shinjiro saw this opening in the barrier between him and the live world, right there at the end --

And then he woke up on the street in a bad part of town at the beginning of February, and didn't remember a damn thing. The cop who found him, this guy called Kurosawa, said it sounded like he'd been suffering from Apathy Syndrome, and Shinjiro couldn't really argue. Kurosawa brought him to the shelter, since he didn't have a family looking for him. They'd help him get his feet under him again, Kurosawa said. Give him some place to stay while he got his life straightened out.

And that's more or less how it went, too. The people running the shelter have a whole list of rules he has to follow, but they gave him a bed and two meals every day, and they set him up with the job. A lot of the guys staying there were recovering from Apathy Syndrome, so some of their heads were pretty messed up, too, and nobody thought it was too weird that Shinjiro couldn't remember anything from October on and not much from before that.

He remembers now, though. And he doesn't _think_ he's crazy. "Can I use the phone?" he asks the stockroom supervisor when he clocks out.

"Of course," the supervisor tells him. "Just don't take too long."

"Right," Shinjiro says. It's not like he's calling to chat, or anything. But the shelter makes him check in when he's going to miss dinner. "Hey," he says into the phone. "I'm going to be late getting in tonight. ...Aragaki. Yeah." He spells his name out. "...Shopping. Maybe some karaoke. ...I know. Ten o'clock. I won't be late."

He doesn't think he's ever lied to the shelter people before, he realizes as he hangs up. But he used to lie to people all the time, didn't he? Starting with himself.

Maybe it's not too late to fix that.

*

This week would have been crazy enough if all he had to worry about was graduating, but with all of their memories coming back, too, Akihiko's been pretty swamped. But he thinks he finally has it under control now -- he takes one more look around his dorm room to make sure it's really empty, and then leaves the door open when he leaves. The last of his stuff is in his backpack; most of his possessions, not that there's all that much to worry about, have already been moved over to his new apartment on the other side of the bay. Remembering everything definitely made _that_ make more sense -- Akihiko's grades were good, and everything, but there wasn't really that much of a reason for the Kirijo Group to give him a cushy university scholarship without Mitsuru being directly involved. He's looking forward to working with her when he gets out of school -- it's flattering, really, that she trusts him enough to want him helping out with her company. It'd be just about perfect, if Shinji were --

"Sorry," Akihiko says. "I promised you I was going to stop doing that, didn't I?" It's not easy, though. He still misses Shinji like crazy, when he lets himself. It's funny. For a couple of years there, in high school, he barely got to see Shinji, but just knowing he was out there somewhere made that almost okay a lot of the time. He could show up again any minute. And now that he can't -- damnit. Akihiko sighs, shakes himself. It's no good wishing he had done things differently. He didn't, and Shinji would have no patience with him feeling sorry for himself.

Downstairs, the school secretary is straightening up the records in the front office. Akihiko digs out his key ring and pries off his dorm key. "Here," he says. "I think that's everything."

"Thank you," the secretary says as she takes his key. "Sign here, please. You've left a forwarding address, so we can send along anything of yours that turns up when the rooms are cleaned?"

"I did, yeah." He doesn't really expect them to find anything. He smiles politely anyway. "Thanks."

The weather's still chilly outside, but spring is coming -- the days are getting longer, and there are a few little plants starting to poke up through the dirt outside the dorm. It's a time for hope, Akihiko thinks. A time to look forward to the future.

He makes it down the drive from the dorm, and turns left at the main street to head toward the train station, and then he sees who's walking up the street toward him and he stops.

*

Shinjiro's expecting it to be harder than this. He figured he'd stop by the dorm and see if anyone there could give him info about the graduating class, maybe a phone number or something. Instead what he finds is Aki walking up the street toward him and then stopping right there, eyes wide and staring and Shinjiro knows, just from that, he isn't crazy after all. "Shinji?" Aki says, weakly, like he can't believe it.

"I hear you graduated," Shinjiro says, because it's easier than all the important stuff. "Congrats."

Aki moves, and Shinjiro's already got one hand up to block a punch by the time he realizes that Aki's not taking a swing, he's grabbing Shinjiro for a hug. "You son of a bitch," he says, and he sounds like he's crying.

"Hey," Shinjiro says. "Cut that out." He pulls back from the hug just enough to look, and yeah, Aki's eyes are a little wet, but he's also smiling like -- like Shinjiro hasn't seen him do in years. Maybe never. Just looking at him makes Shinjiro's ribs feel too tight.

"How did you -- no, never mind," Aki says. He's holding onto Shinjiro's biceps with both hands. "Can you stay?"

Of course. Trust Aki to ask that first. "I think so," Shinjiro says. "I mean, I've been at the shelter for more than a month trying to get my memory back. So it's not like I only get a few hours, or something." He doesn't mention the drugs he used to do to keep Castor quiet, and he hopes Aki won't think to ask. He doesn't _feel_ sick, doesn't think he's felt sick since he got to the shelter, but he had his share of good days before he died, too.

Aki's still smiling, not thinking about anything that morbid, and Shinjiro tries smiling back. It feels pretty good. "You want to come see my new place?" Aki says. "We can stop for takeout or something on the way, if you want. I'd offer to make dinner, but...." He shrugs.

"But you could burn the house down with an automatic rice cooker," Shinjiro says. "I know." Aki's still holding onto him, but that's okay. Somehow his hands have settled on Aki's waist and don't seem to be going anywhere. "If you have some pots and pans, I'll make dinner."

"Okay," Aki says. "Yeah. Kirijo furnished the apartment. It's got all that stuff."

"All right," Shinjiro says. "Lead the way."

*

If he's crazy, Akihiko decides, then being sane wasn't all that great. He wants to keep touching Shinji, like he still needs to check to make sure Shinji's actually there. And sometimes girls can get away with that when they're best friends, holding hands when they walk down the street, but boys can't, so he tries to keep his cool. Only there's Shinji walking down his street, and there's Shinji buying groceries in the corner market, and there's Shinji waiting for the elevator, and he wanted this so bad he barely knows what to do now that he has it.His apartment isn't much bigger than his dorm room, but it has half a kitchen and a little bit of a view of the bay and right now it has Shinji, which Akihiko can hardly get his head around. He keeps wandering back over to see what Shinji's doing next to the stove, and he can't seem to help touching Shinji's back or his arm every time he comes over there, and eventually Shinji laughs at him.

"Sorry," Akihiko says, pulling his hand away.

"It's okay," Shinji says. "It's just -- what I was doing the whole time I was dead, you know?" Akihiko flinches at how easy it is for him to say, but Shinji takes a deep breath and goes on, "You were like -- like a beacon, out there. The thing I couldn't stay away from. Always talking to me." His hands are shaking. He puts down his knife, doesn't look up from the half-chopped vegetables. "It sounds sappy as hell, right, so don't bring it up again. But you're. You're what I was holding on to."

Akihiko has to go sit down for a minute after that. He thinks about the trouble they used to get in at the orphanage, the nuns scolding them and putting peroxide on their scrapes after one of them started a fight and the other jumped in. He thinks about the two of them showing off how tough they were to try to scare Mitsuru when they first met her, and then trying to impress her more or less the same way a few years later. He thinks about how _angry_ he was when Shinji ran away after the accident with Amada's mother, and how good it felt to finally fight beside him again when he came back. Almost every important memory he has is about Shinji one way or another.

When he gets up again and crosses from his futon to the tiny kitchen, Shinji picks up the nearest utensil and turns around to threaten him with it. "No sappy shit."

"Jackass," Akihiko says. "You'd be a lot more threatening with a knife instead of that big spoon."

Shinji snorts. "I'm fucking murder with a ladle," he says, and goes back to stirring things into their ramen.

Akihiko almost lets it go, almost doesn't ask, but he really wants to know for sure. "You were there when we fought Nyx, weren't you?"

"Yeah," Shinji says, without turning around. "You did great."

"Thanks," Akihiko says. The tile creaks under him when he moves, so it won't be a surprise, but he still moves really slowly as he reaches out to slide his arms around Shinji's waist. Shinji doesn't flinch at all, just raises his elbows a little so Akihiko will have room. Akihiko presses his cheek against the back of Shinji's shoulder and just holds still right there. He can feel Shinji's shoulderblade moving from stirring. The food smells good. He thinks, right now, he's content.

"Dinner's ready," Shinji says. "You have to let go long enough to eat."

"Just that long?" Akihiko asks, which is bordering on too sappy but must not cross the line, because Shinji doesn't try to disembowel him with the ladle or anything.

They sit on the edge of his futon to eat, because it's that or the floor -- the only other furniture he has is his desk, and they can't both sit there. The ramen's way better than the instant kind, maybe even better than the Hagakure special, and the first bite makes Akihiko realize how hungry he is. They eat in silence, focused, mirror images of each other, and god, Shinji still shovels food into his mouth like he's starving to death. He _looks_ healthier, though, like this shelter he's been staying in is at least feeding him some of the time. And he's here, Shinji, alive and well and smirking when he catches Akihiko watching him.

When they finish their food, Akihiko gets up to put the bowls in the sink. He'll wash up in a little bit, but right now he really wants to just spend some time with Shinji while he can. Catch up, maybe, or -- he doesn't know. He comes back over to the futon, sits down on the edge of it. "So," he says, and then doesn't know how to go on.

Shinji nods like it's a cue he's been waiting for. "All right," he says. "Let's do this."

Then he kisses Akihiko on the mouth.

*

When he does it Aki kind of flinches a little, like somehow he didn't see that coming -- but that doesn't last long, and then he's kissing back, a little clumsy and pickled-ginger sweet but still the best kiss Shinjiro's ever had. It's a whole-body, can't-get-close-enough, just-glad-we're-alive kiss. Aki's hands are strong, digging into the muscles of his back, and damn, that feels good after a full day of work. Shinjiro arches into him, pushing closer, and they just sort of spread out across the futon like they don't even have to think about it to move together. Him and Aki. Like it used to be, only so much better. "Shinji," Aki says when Shinjiro comes up for air, and his voice is doing that thing like he might not be able to stand it. So Shinjiro kisses him again. They've had about as much soul-baring conversation as he can take for one evening. And besides, Aki's getting the hang of kissing pretty fast, teasing Shinjiro's tongue with his own, making sweet noises when Shinjiro sucks on his lower lip.

The second time the kiss breaks off, Aki says, "Please," and he doesn't sound shaky anymore, just breathless. Way better. "I want to -- can we -- I mean, I don't even know."

"Man," Shinjiro says, "too busy with your damn training to mess around like a normal guy, huh?" Aki sort of laughs, reaching up to touch Shinjiro's face, and Shinjiro turns his head to catch Aki's fingertips in his mouth.

Aki's hands are a mess, have been for years, scraped and scarred from all that fighting, the knuckles bent in a couple spots. Shinjiro closes his eyes, tracing those rough spots with his tongue, taking Aki's fingers deep enough that they brush the back of his throat.

"Ah," Aki says. "God, Shinji."

Shinjiro smirks around his mouthful. When he opens his eyes, Aki's watching him, cheeks flushed, eyes wide. He likes it. Shinjiro reaches down and presses his hand against the front of Aki's nice dress pants.

Aki moans, and pushes into his hand like it's a goddamn combat reflex. Shinjiro lets his hand go.

"Yeah," he says, rubbing nice and slow, feeling the shape of Aki's cock under his hand. "Feels good, huh? You want me to suck your cock, Aki?"

"God," Aki says. "Will you? Yeah. I, yeah."

"Wouldn't have offered if I wasn't going to do it," Shinjiro says, and slides down off the edge of the futon, pulling Aki up to sit in front of him. His hands are shaking a little when he tugs Aki's belt unbuckled, but he doesn't think Aki's in any shape to notice. He's done this before, right, only not like this, not like he _meant_ it, and that makes more difference than he expected it to.

He gets Aki's pants open, gets Aki's cock free, and this is a hell of a time for his mouth to go dry, isn't it? But he wants this, and Aki's looking at him like this is totally unbelievable, and he'd hate to disappoint with expectations like that watching. Shinjiro licks his lips and leans down, lays his hands on Aki's thighs and keeps his eyes open when he takes Aki's cock in his mouth.

That part is really different. He doesn't remember ever wanting to keep his eyes open before. But this time it's Aki, and he wants all the reminders he can get: not just those battered hands touching his hands, his face, not just the way Aki whispers his name over and over again. He wants to see the soft unraveling hem of Aki's red t-shirt and the trail of fine silvery hairs that lead down from Aki's navel. He wants to not do this on autopilot for once. Aki's hand finds his, grip too tight and the angle awkward, and he wants that, too.

And when Aki loses it, breathless and shaking with tension, before Shinjiro's jaw has had time to get really sore, he even wants that, enough to swallow hard when his mouth is full of Aki's come.

"Shinji," Aki says, "come here, come here," and he pulls Shinjiro back up onto the futon with him, too fast and sort of clumsy so they get tangled up together and collide at first when Aki leans in to kiss him again. It's sloppy and kind of a mess and Shinjiro sort of wants to laugh into Aki's mouth, because it's just _good_.

"What's so funny?" Aki says.

Shinjiro shakes his head. "Nothing, just -- I'm just happy," he says. Happy and fucking _hard_ from sucking Aki off, which is crazy.

"Good," Aki says, "me, too." His hand slides up Shinjiro's thigh, and it's so warm. "You have any pointers?"

"Shit," Shinjiro says, "you want to?"

"Course I do," Aki says. "What kind of bastard do you think I am?"

There are obnoxious ways to answer a question like that, but Aki's unbuttoning his pants. Shinjiro says, "Don't choke yourself trying to get it all in your mouth. Use your hands if you want. Fuck, Aki, use your hands," because Aki's touching his cock now and he's so hard he can barely think straight. "Keep doing that and you won't even need your mouth -- god --"

Aki smirks, with that wild glitter in his eyes like he's spoiling for a fight. "What if I want to use my mouth?" he says, and leans down, pushing Shinjiro onto his back.

"Then your competitive streak is -- ah, god, Aki," Shinjiro says, when Aki's mouth closes around the head of his cock.

He tries to keep his eyes open, but it's not easy when it feels this good -- Aki's mouth wet and hot, his hand wrapped around the shaft of Shinjiro's cock and stroking nice and hard. A couple awkward strokes and then he gets the rhythm going pretty well, just right for a minute there, and then his teeth scrape the underside of Shinjiro's cock -- just once -- and Shinjiro flinches. Aki looks up, his eyes all pupil, black and shining.

"It's fine," Shinjiro says. "Don't stop. God, don't stop." He's going to finish embarrassingly fast, but he doesn't think he can help that. That's Aki's hand curled around his shaft, and the wet press of Aki's tongue against the head of his cock, and he means to give fair warning since it's Aki's first time but it hits him too hard and all he gets out is, "Now," before he's losing it, going off harder than he has in this life _or_ the last one.

Aki coughs a little, but he's smiling when he sits up. His cheeks are flushed, his lips swollen. He looks great.

"I -- I'm really glad you're here," he says.

Shinjiro smiles. "Me, too," he says. He reaches out, and Aki crawls up to collapse next to him on the futon, one arm across Shinjiro's chest. Like he thinks Shinjiro might still try to leave. Like he hasn't figured out that Shinjiro's going to be coming over here as much as Aki will let him. They have a lot of time to make up for.

*

Akihiko's counting the beats of Shinji's heart under his hand and trying to figure out whether it would be okay to ask him to spend the night when Shinji shifts next to him and tries to sit up. "What time is it?" he asks. The microwave's the only clock Akihiko has so far, and who knows where his phone is right now. He squints across the room. "Eight?" he says.

"All right," Shinji says. "Help me keep track of that, okay? I have to get back to the shelter by ten or I lose my spot."

Akihiko nods. For about half a second he thinks Shinji shouldn't _need_ the shelter anymore, because he can stay here any time -- but it's definitely too soon, too much, to say anything like that. No way he's going to risk freaking Shinji out now. "We should do this again," he says, at least, because he can't not say anything at all.

Shinji laughs. "Yeah. Yeah, we should." He pauses for a minute, one hand just kind of stroking Akihiko's back slowly, and then he says, too casual, "I get done early at work tomorrow, if you're free."

"I don't have plans," Akihiko says. "I could -- I could come meet you when you get done, if you want."

"Okay," Shinji says. "Two o'clock. Outside Port Island Station. Don't forget."

"I promise," Akihiko says -- like he could forget. Shinji wants him around. Shinji's _back_. He's always going to remember this. No matter what.


End file.
